


tell me if it's wrong, if it's right (i don't care)

by thelastpoisonapple



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: AU, F/F, and other random things, mostly - Freeform, probably, short things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastpoisonapple/pseuds/thelastpoisonapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>beca and chloe, in a series of probably unrelated one shots and drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. for bechloe week: rain

**Author's Note:**

> it’s pouring and my final paper is in my backpack so I guess we’re stuck under this tiny awning together. do you think they’d deliver pizza here au, in which beca never joins the bellas. also i know i'm kind of late to the party and this prompt was from like day 1 but it kind of just hit me today.

It’s just Beca’s luck that she gets caught in the rain on the way back from the radio station.

She swears as she starts running. The first shelter she sees is a tiny awning hanging over that one potted plant by the science building, and she doesn’t think, just ducks underneath it. Trust her to get rained on at four in the morning, when she didn’t have an umbrella on her. She wasn’t even supposed to be on shift today. One of the other DJs had fallen sick and asked her to cover at the last minute, so she’d been in a rush when she’d left her room earlier. The only things she has on her are her hand phone, her dorm key, and the cardkey for the radio station.

“Fuck me,” she mutters, as she wrings water out of her hair. As she racks her brains trying to think of anyone she could call to pick her up, she notices a redhead running down the path, body hunched over a backpack. Beca’s heart goes out to her. Or at least, it does, until she realizes that the redhead is headed straight for the space under the awning. Which is already occupied by Beca and the potted plant.

The redhead nearly crashes into the potted plant when she runs underneath the awning. “Sorry,” she says, in between pants. “It’s, just, my final paper is in my backpack, so I guess we’re stuck under this tiny awning together.”

Beca raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing running around with your final paper at four in the morning?”

“I was in the diner, the one near the library? Figured I’d get some reading done because my roommate threw me out,” the other girl says. She extends a hand towards Beca. “Chloe Beale.”

Beca’s not one for physical contact, so she pointedly continues wringing her hair out in favour of shaking this girl’s hand. “Beca Mitchell.”

She doesn’t expect for Chloe’s eyes to light up (which is unfair, because this Chloe girl’s eyes are a startling shade of blue and, like, probably suck people’s souls in, or something). “Beca Mitchell, like the radio station DJ?”

“WBUJ, Music for the Independent Mind,” Beca recites faithfully. “That’s me.”

“Oh my god, I listen to your show all the time,” Chloe gushes, growing excited. “Your mixes are aca-amazing.”

Chloe looks so intense, Beca would take three steps backwards if the awning wasn’t so small. “Uh, thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” Chloe beams, all bright and sincere, like Beca’s just said the nicest thing she’s ever heard. “I actually left the diner when you wrapped up your shift tonight.”

“Ah.” Now Beca’s heart really does go out to her, strangely enough. “Sorry you got caught in the rain.”

“That’s okay,” Chloe says. “I got to meet you.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, mostly because Beca doesn’t really know what to say to that. No one has ever tried to talk to her about her gig at the radio station before.

Then – “Do you think they’d deliver pizza here?”

It’s so unexpected, and Chloe looks so serious about it, Beca can’t help the laugh that escapes her. “Dude, you’re such a weirdo.”

The thing is, Beca kind of maybe means that somewhat fondly. And from the answering smile Chloe gives her, Beca thinks Chloe knows that too.


	2. bechloe week: 3 am

Beca should not be allowed to touch her phone when she’s drunk.

Chloe knows this. The Bellas know this. Beca is notorious for drunk texting and drunk dialling and drunk everything-she-shouldn’t-be-doing. They’ve usually got her back though; one of them is always on Beca watch when they go out. It’s usually Chloe, but one of the others takes over whenever she can’t make it.

So Chloe is surprised when she wakes up in the morning to a series of texts from Beca, apparently received at some time past three that morning. The Bellas had gone out to some new club just off campus, but Chloe had stayed home because she had a presentation for her Russian Lit class the next afternoon and she couldn’t afford to be hungover for that.

_[3.24 am] Becs: chlo your eyes are really prwetty_

_[3.26 am] Becs: theyi're plmainyg titanium_

_[3.27 am] Becs: sits nqo fun with ut yogu pchle_

Chloe’s brow furrows as she tries to make sense of the texts, getting stuck on the 3.27 one for a while before she thinks she figures it out.

_[3.28 am] Becs: Stcae s mean_

_[3.35 am] Becs: she usays i should telxl you i lcike you_

_[3.37 am] Becs: like, tlike like you_

Her first thought is that she should make sure Beca has ibuprofen, because she was obviously really, really drunk last night. Her next thought is that Stacie did a bad job on Beca watch, but Beca’s done a lot worse than drunk texting her, so she’ll let it slide.

Her third thought is: _wait, what?_

She stares at the message, like if she looks at it long enough, it might rearrange itself into something completely different.

_[3.37 am] Becs: like, tlike like you_

And, _oh_. Because Chloe has been waiting for Beca to say that for – well, pretty much forever, now, really, and sure, she didn’t want it to come under the influence of alcohol, but hell, it’s been four years now and she’ll take what she can get.

She just hopes Beca meant it, though, because she doesn’t think she’ll be able to take it if this is just a drunk joke.

* * *

 

Beca is never getting drunk again.

First of all, she’s got a pounding headache. Second of all, she thinks she’s lost her button up.

A quick look around the room (her room, thankfully) reveals that her shirt is in fact lying by the foot of Fat Amy’s bed, which is good. She really likes that one. It also reveals a certain redhead, sitting at her desk and reading a book.

“Morning,” Beca says. Well, more like groans. And softly. Very softly.

Chloe, though, jumps about a foot high. “You’re awake!” she exclaims, and Beca groans again, because, like, it’s way too loud. “Oh, right, sorry,” Chloe says, softer. “Here.”

She walks over and hands Beca a bottle of Gatorade and some ibuprofen. Beca mumbles her thanks and downs them. “You’re a goddess,” she says, once she’s drunk about half the bottle.

“I know,” Chloe says. “Wild night?”

Beca nods, but only a little because moving sounds like a bad idea. “Definitely. Note to self, never get drunk again. I don’t even remember half of what I did last night. Remind me never to let Stacie make plans again. She’s brutal.”

“I know that too,” Chloe says, sitting down on the bed next to her. “You texted me last night.”

Beca stiffens immediately, because she has absolutely zero filters when she drunk texts people. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, scrambling for her phone. She finds it underneath her covers. “Please tell me I didn’t text anyone else.”

“Did you?” Chloe asks, as Beca opens her text messages.

“No, thank god, just you,” Beca says. “Sorry, I don’t even know what–”

She stops talking then, because she’s opened the thread and the messages from last night are staring her in the face. And oh. Oh shit shit shit shit shit.

“Ugh,” Beca groans. Again. “Isn’t this why we have Beca watch?”

Chloe, miraculously, laughs, though she cuts herself off quickly when Beca shoots her a glare. As much as Beca loves that laugh, she’s still hungover. “You know no one is as good as that as I am. Can we talk about it?”

The best way out of this, Beca decides, might be to just deflect everything that comes her way. “What, Beca watch?”

Chloe shoots down that possibility quickly. “No, about the texts. Did you mean it?”

Beca, of course, panics. She’s done a really, really good job of hiding her feelings for her best friend, even after she broke up with Jesse, but of course she undid all that work in one drunken text. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she says, already preparing to flee.

Chloe, though, shifts closer to her, and takes her wrist. Gently, but also firmly enough to keep her there. “That’s not what I asked, Becs. Did you mean it?”

There are, like, a thousand different things that could go wrong if she admits that she probably did. The worst of which being that Chloe could not return her feelings, and then she’d try to be all comforting but things would be awkward and stiff and Beca would lose her best friend.

So she opens her mouth to deny it – to deny her feelings like she’s done for years – but Chloe beats her to the punch. “I’ve wanted you to mean it. For four years.”

Beca just stares at her. At some point she realizes her mouth is still open, but she can barely remember how to close it anymore. “Four years?” she repeats, eventually. It comes out more like a croak.

“Ever since the shower,” Chloe affirms.

And she’s so sure of herself that Beca wonders if maybe this is worth pursuing after all. “But _four years?_

Chloe nods. “You just said that.”

Beca finds herself at a loss. “You could have – you could have said _something_.”

Seemingly unbothered, Chloe shrugs. “Doesn’t matter if you didn’t mean it. Did you?”

Beca is looking closely enough to see the corner of her mouth twitch, like she’s trying to hold back a smile. “Why are you still asking? You seem to have it all figured out anyway.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to hear it from you,” Chloe says.

Beca rolls her eyes, but tells her, in the most sincere voice she can manage while she’s hungover as hell, “I did.”

And then Chloe’s hands are on her shoulders, and then wrapped around her neck, pulling her in, and it feels like that first Aca-Initiation Night, all over again, except this time when Chloe pulls, Beca doesn’t resist, or try to steady herself.

This time, when Chloe pulls, Beca falls.

**Author's Note:**

> drop me a prompt or come scream at me about bechloe at clexakomskaikru.tumblr.com


End file.
